


hang a shining star

by sinagtala (strikinglight)



Series: kiss prompts [10]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Christmas Decorations, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 03:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikinglight/pseuds/sinagtala
Summary: Phichit snaps maybe fifty selfies of the two of them leaning their heads together, laughing all the while at how this is tons better than any of the holiday Snapchat filters.





	hang a shining star

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Pia, for prompt #17: goofy kiss, bless.

“Is this shiny stuff supposed to go on the tree?” 

When Phichit looks up from his Instagram break he sees Yuuri’s got a length of tinsel around his neck. They’re sitting cross-legged on the floor across from one another, Yuuri flanked on either side by cardboard boxes of Christmas decorations of various kinds. Not to mention the tree, this tallish fuzzy green thing with jutting branches that’s reminiscent enough, at least in Phichit’s mind, of an actual pine tree, a joint present from their coach.

In the beginning they’d imagined they’d be too busy to really get a lot of Christmas-ing done—with neither of them going on to the Grand Prix Final they’re running extra-tight practice schedules in preparation for Four Continents in February, instead of heading home for the winter holidays. What a surprise it had been for Celestino himself to suggest they do themselves a good turn and pretty up the flat a little, and then proceed to send them back from the rink that very day with the pieces of their tree in a box.

The decorations had come later, all on loan from various friends and rinkmates whose mothers had just happened to accumulate way too many plastic snowflakes and carved wooden reindeer and shiny balls in every color over the years. They’re supposed to be hanging them up right now, having decided to devote most of their Sunday off to decorating, but it had been enough work just to get the tree assembled.

“We can put them on the tree _later.”_ Phichit waves a hand, dismissive, and reaches across to tweak one end of the tinsel so it loops around the front of Yuuri’s neck, hanging behind his shoulder like the end of a scarf. “That’s a good look on you.”

To Phichit’s surprise—and great, great pleasure—Yuuri grins, reaching into the box on his right and pulling out a bright red Christmas ball. He then proceeds to hook the string around the shell of his ear, so the ball dangles downward next to his cheek like a giant earring. “Really? Not too much?”

Phichit laughs and sticks out his hands for the other box, and immediately begins rummaging through the ornaments for a makeshift costume of his own. “I think you could afford a little more sparkle, myself.”

And so it is that the time they’re supposed to spend decorating the tree becomes time they spend decorating themselves—over the next few minutes Phichit gets his own tinsel scarf and a tinsel headband besides, and a pair of Christmas ball earrings of his own. Yuuri, meanwhile, has found a wreath at the bottom of his box, covered all over with red and gold bows, and plopped it onto his head like a crown. Then, naturally, Phichit snaps maybe fifty selfies of the two of them leaning their heads together, laughing all the while at how this is tons better than any of the holiday Snapchat filters.

That’s when he sees it frame by frame: their laughing faces, side by side, and then Yuuri turning to one side. Then there’s something he can feel as well as see, even as his thumb continues to press the capture button—Yuuri pecking him gently on the cheek once, twice, three times, along with the scratching of the Christmas wreath against his brow, and the gentle _thunk_ of the balls hanging from their ears as they swing and knock together.

“What was that for?” he asks, his cheeks warm, especially in the places where Yuuri’s lips have touched.

Yuuri draws away, looking briefly uncertain, a little crease forming between his brows. But it’s gone just as suddenly as it appears when he admits, “I’m happy.” And after a pause, he adds, with wonder in his voice, “This might be better than a gold medal.”

And that’s when Phichit puts his phone down on the floor, opening his arms instead so Yuuri can lean into them—because some precious images are nobody’s but his to keep.

“So stay gold,” he says, smiling, and Yuuri beams back like he’s promising he will.


End file.
